"What?" He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Kid?"
Before my brain catches up with my hand, I grab a slice of bread from the plate and hurl it at his face.
It hits him square in the forehead with a soft thwap before falling to the floor.
Silence.
Lorenzo doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just stares at me with his dark eyes while breadcrumbs dust his perfect hair. The shock on his face would be funny if I wasn't suddenly terrified of what I just did. I threw food at a man who kills people for disrespect. At the only person standing between me and Daniil.
"You're annoying." My voice comes out smaller than intended, but I lift my chin anyway.
He continues staring. No anger crosses his features, no rage darkens his eyes. Just... surprise? Like nobody's dared to be this ridiculous in his presence.
Without a word, Lorenzo pushes off where he stands. He walks to the door. His hand pauses on the handle.
I wait for him to say something. To threaten me. To throw me out. To do anything except just leave.
But he does exactly that. The door closes with a quiet click. The lock turns.
I'm alone again.
My hands shake as I set down the coffee mug. What the hell did I just do? I threw bread at Lorenzo Sartori. Bread. At a mafiaunderboss who's protecting me out of some twisted sense of obligation.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest. Not a happy sound. More like hysteria trying to escape. I press my palm over my mouth to muffle it, but my shoulders shake anyway.
God, the look on his face. Like his brain couldn't process what happened. Like nobody in his violent, controlled world had ever done something so stupidly normal as throwing an object during an argument.
I sink back into the chair, the laugh dying into something softer.
A smile tugs at my lips even as shame heats my cheeks. I should apologize. Should be grateful, not throwing food at the man keeping me alive.
But for one ridiculous moment, I felt normal. Not terrified. Not calculating survival odds. Just... normal. Angry and petty and human.
I pick up the bread from the floor, my smile lingering despite everything.
Lorenzo
I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second.
She threw bread at me.
Bread.
I have to press my fist against my mouth to stop the sound trying to escape. Not anger. Something else entirely. Something that wants to bubble up from my chest like champagne fizz.
What the hell?
If anyone else had done that—thrownanythingat my face—they'd be missing fingers right now. Minimum. I've broken men's jaws for less disrespect. Put bullets in kneecaps for looking at me wrong.
But I just stood there. Frozen. Watching this slip of a girl glare at me like I'm the annoying one. Like she has any right to be indignant when I'm risking everything keeping her here.
The urge to laugh gets stronger. I push off the door and head downstairs before I do something stupid like go back in there.
Dante waits at the bottom of the stairs, espresso in hand. His eyes track over my face, and one eyebrow lifts.
"You're about to laugh?"
"Don't." I say.
